


Looking respectable

by linndechir



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Beards, Fluff, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:10:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc has to shave off his beard for a meeting. Chuck likes the beard, so he tries his best to distract him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking respectable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/1613.html?thread=1594189#t1594189) on the kinkmeme. Chuck is actually not that unhelpful, he's mostly just sleepy and snuggly.

Herc stared at his reflection in the mirror, raised a hand to his face to scratch the week-old scruff. He liked it the way it was now, just long enough to be more than careless stubble, but not so long that it would look unkempt. He had never been a friend of shaving every day like some suit-wearing office monkey, and one of his favourite things about the Jaeger programme had always been that they were far less strict about that kind of regulations than the regular military was.

Still, there was the occasional meeting with the PPDC's suits that required him to show up clean-shaven and in uniform like any other soldier, and he was not the kind of man to embarrass Stacker in front of their superiors. So he would suck it up, no matter how much his skin hated the scratch of the razor – damn those ginger genes for giving him skin that was as sensitive as a girl's – and no matter how much Chuck would complain about it.

Just as that thought crossed his mind the bathroom door opened with a creak and his son stepped inside, soft barefoot steps on the tiles. Chuck had still been fast asleep when Herc had disentangled himself from underneath him – his boy had a habit of using Herc's chest as a pillow on those nights when he fell asleep before crawling into his own bunk, but fortunately he was a heavy sleeper; nothing short of an ear-numbing alarm or Herc shaking him woke him on most mornings.

Still, Herc realised he should have locked the bathroom door if he wanted to be on time for that meeting. In the mirror he could see Chuck standing behind him, naked and gorgeous, hard muscles relaxed under soft skin, a purple bite mark blooming on Chuck's shoulder and Herc remembered all too well leaving it there last night, the moment Chuck's calloused fingers gave him the last rough stroke he had needed to come. 

“What are you doing up already?” Chuck mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his tone closer to pouting than complaining for once. He was far easier to be around in the morning than the rest of the time. Herc was a bit of a morning grump up until his first cup of coffee, and while Chuck was hardly more awake, he was just sleepy instead of cranky. Sleepy and pliant and oddly affectionate and about the only thing in the world that could wake Herc up faster than some coffee or a kaiju attack.

“Got that meeting with the suits I told you about,” Herc said without turning around, still looking at Chuck in the mirror. His son stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him, chest pressed against Herc's back, half-hard cock – was that boy ever not hard in the morning hours? – nudging Herc's arse, his chin coming to rest on Herc's shoulder. Chuck's last growth spurt had left him as tall as his father, and his shoulders were already broader than Herc's. 

Chuck made a little noise in the back of his throat that sounded vaguely disapproving, then nuzzled Herc's neck. Herc turned his head despite himself, leaning into the touch, into Chuck's lips mouthing against his cheek until they found his lips. Awkward angle, just a brief lazy kiss, but it made him smile. His life would be so much easier if Chuck was like this all the time, not only in the first half hour after waking up.

“So? Why're you up so early?” Chuck repeated, hands roaming lazily over Herc's stomach and straying further down. Herc's cock twitched; he had grown far too used to morning sex since this had started. Having a constantly horny Chuck in his quarters was really no good for his self-discipline.

“Gotta look respectable, don't I?” Herc said and reached down to stop Chuck's hand from making this situation any worse than it already was.

“You look fine,” Chuck said in a completely serious voice, and Herc just laughed softly because Chuck didn't even seem to be aware that, no, Herc could not show up to anything looking the way he did right now. 

He sighed, scratched his cheek again, and all that got him was a soft kiss on his fingers, Chuck's lips trying to draw his fingertips in. Herc quickly pulled away.

“C'mon, back off, boy.” He reached for the shaving cream; in the mirror he saw Chuck's half-hooded eyes following his movements and an annoyed frown appeared on Chuck's face. “The beard has to go.”

“No.” Chuck sounded as petulant as a child, but his displeasure at having his relaxed morning sex interrupted before it had even started seemed to wake him up properly. He grabbed Herc's chin to turn his head and kiss him again, more aggressively this time, although just as briefly. “I like the beard.”

“I know you do, kid,” Herc sighed. “So do I. But you know the rules, so don't be a brat about it. It'll look just like before in a couple of days.”

Chuck pouted – an honest-to-God pout – but at least he didn't try something childish like stealing the shaving cream. Instead he just rubbed his cheek against Herc's, sighed, and stepped aside.

“You look old without the beard,” he stated. 

Herc scoffed. “Thanks for that, you got any more opinions you'd like to share?”

But he was grateful enough that Chuck had stopped feeling him up, so he couldn't be too mad at him. Herc quickly slathered the shaving cream onto his face; he hated that stuff, and like on so many mornings over the years of his military career he cursed whatever bastard had decided centuries ago that soldiers should be clean-shaven. When he was done he reached for the razor – an old-fashioned cutthroat razor, and just a few years ago he would have thought any man who used those was a pretentious douchebag, but in the days of constant supply shortages, when disposable razors weren't always easy to come by, it paid off to know how to use one – but Chuck stopped him, took it from his hand.

“If it's coming off, I'm doing it,” Chuck said, testing the edge with a finger, satisfied to find it sharp. Chuck used it every morning, of course he kept it in perfect condition.

“You sure you're awake enough for that?” Herc asked sceptically, but Chuck's hand looked steady enough.

“Could do this in my sleep,” Chuck scoffed, and it was probably true. He had never really had to learn how to do this, his hand had figured out the motions after just a few tries, as if repeated drifting with his father had also led to some shared muscle memory. It would surprise Herc if anything still surprised him about the drift, but then again they moved in synch half the time without meaning to, their handwriting had become practically identical over the past year (Stacker regularly accused them of signing forms for each other), so Chuck picking up how to use a straight razor after a few attempts had hardly been the strangest thing to happen.

So Herc just sighed and held still, closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the scowl on Chuck's face. They had done this before, shaving each other, both when one of them was hurt or when they simply felt like it. Herc rather liked it, putting himself into his son's hands like this, feeling the razor slide easily over his skin, hearing the scrape of the blade and the rustle of the towel when Chuck wiped it clean. And then there was the soft pressure of Chuck's left hand, directing him to turn his head this way or that – not that he really needed to, when Herc moved the way Chuck wanted him to without even having to look at him. The only times Chuck ever cut him was when the little shit did it on purpose, and Chuck didn't seem in a vindictive mood for once. Instead he finished the job with quick efficiency, and Herc only opened his eyes when Chuck let the razor clatter into the sink, the fingers of his other hand resting against Herc's mouth now, trying to slip between his lips.

Herc glanced down. Chuck was still hard.

“Stop that,” Herc turned his head away, escaping Chuck's fingers. “Don't want to get any of that damn soap in my mouth.”

He leant over the sink to rinse off his face and then the razor, still acutely aware of Chuck lingering by his side, so close that Herc could feel the warmth of his body.

Meeting. He had to be in the conference room in about half an hour if his inner clock was right, which it always was. And he still needed a shower before that – the suits were only at the other end of the video call, but Stacker would be standing right next to him.

“Can you stop complaining?” Chuck said. “I'm the one who's going to have to deal with your shitty evening stubble tonight.”

Herc chuckled into the towel while he dried off his face, threw it over his shoulder and reached down to cup Chuck's balls in his hand. The soft whimper that escaped Chuck's lips would have been damn satisfying if it didn't turn Herc on so much. 

“If that frail, delicate skin of yours can't handle a bit of stubble,” and Herc gently caressed the soft skin of Chuck's balls, then ran his fingertips up to the tip of his cock, “you'll just have to wait a couple of days.” He squeezed. Smirked. “I'd like to see you try, really.”

“You're such a bastard,” Chuck growled. His movements were still a bit slower and less forceful than usual, but Herc didn't really fight back when Chuck pulled him close and kissed him hard – lips bruising on Herc's, no tongue, they both complained too much about the other's morning breath to try that, but Herc always liked the desperate feel of it, the way Chuck would bite his bottom lip and suck on it, as if to make up for not kissing him properly.

Herc wanted nothing more than to stumble right back into bed with him. They were both too awake now for the sleepy morning sex he had grown used to – with Chuck all warm and pliant underneath him, snuggling up and squirming and making the sweetest little noises when Herc sucked him off or simply rubbed against him until they both came in the shared heat between their bodies. It would be rougher if they went back to bed now, harder and angrier and more demanding, the way it usually was when Chuck was awake and pushing against Herc and always wanting more, more and more because nothing was ever enough for his boy and Herc liked nothing better than to give him everything he could think of and then some, wear him out until those angry shoves turned gentler again and Chuck just collapsed in his arms, he wanted to hear those sounds Chuck made when Herc pushed him down on the bed and held him in place while Chuck's hips jerked up and – 

Goddammit, he had no time for this. He broke the kiss reluctantly, pushed Chuck back at arm's length.

“Meeting, Chuck,” Herc reminded him. His tone was hard enough to make Chuck halt, but his boy's hands stayed on the back of Herc's neck.

“You need a shower,” Chuck said. Breathed in deeply through his nose and grinned. Herc suspected that he smelt, well, like a man who had spent half the night having sweaty, messy sex and who had slept through the rest of the night in the arms of an equally sweaty, messy man.

“I know, that's why I don't have time for this.”

Chuck finally let go of him, but his grin was still far too cheerful for someone who was just told he wasn't going to get any. Herc really should have seen it coming when Chuck just stepped into the small shower, leaning back against the cold tiles to make enough room for Herc. Damn boy licked his lips and wrapped his fingers around his own cock.

“Come on then, dad. I won't need long, but you'd better hurry up if you want me to do something about _that_.”

Cocky little shit, glancing down at Herc's cock with a hungry look in his eyes like he'd never seen anything he wanted more in his life, and damn if that wasn't true, the way Chuck got off on sucking Herc's dick, like it was his pleasure as much as Herc's. 

_Fuck it. Can't expect a man to say no to that._

Herc got into the shower so fast he almost stumbled over his own feet, turned on the water while Chuck drew the curtains shut – and this, too, they had done so often before that they moved around and into each other easily, despite the shower being so tiny they barely both fit into it. He laughed at the little shriek Chuck gave when cold water hit his back for a second or two before it turned warmer, waited only that long before he brought his hands up to Chuck's shoulders. Leant in to growl into his ear, just loud enough to be heard over the spray of the water, “You make me late for my meeting, I'll make you regret it, boy.”

And he knew it wasn't much of a threat, not with the way his words made Chuck moan, not knowing that the only actual punishment he could deal out was not sleeping with Chuck, but the words still had the desired effect. Chuck was on his knees just a second later, large hands on Herc's hips manhandling him until Herc could lean against the wall, and fuck if Chuck's mouth wasn't the most perfect thing in the world. His boy sucked dick with the same obsession with getting it just right as he did everything else, and Herc didn't think anyone else had ever felt better on his cock. Meeting be damned, he'd have to return the favour after this.

 

In the end, he did make it just in time for the meeting. Entered the conference room the moment the large digital clock switched to 7:00 (those fucking time zones made for seriously messed up schedules). Clean-shaven, his hair combed though still a bit wet, wearing his full uniform with all his medals in place. 

And well, if his bottom lip was a bit swollen and red, and if he hadn't had the time to brush his teeth after sucking Chuck off in the shower ( _I like it better when it's bit scratchy, just not too scratchy … fuck, daaad, I didn't say you could stop, don't fucking stop_ ), he'd just have to make sure he wouldn't breathe too much in Stacker's direction.


End file.
